The Draught of the Patron's Protection
by Aislinn Cailin
Summary: A mishap in a Potions lesson threatens to reveal one of Snape's most guarded secrets. [Post Deathly Hallows. Implied Snape & Lily.]


**The Draught of the Patron's Protection**

_By Aislinn Cailin_

The class came to a pin drop silence almost immediately. Severus Snape's gaze swept over the room, his black beaded eyes surveying each of his students carefully, until he landed on the one he loved to torment most: Harry Potter.

Snape's stared at him a moment longer before turning to the vial sitting on his desk. It was filled with an odd sort of liquid: thick and frothy, its colour was indistinguishable; it was a mixture of Gryffindor red and Slytherin green. He picked it up, his slender fingers curling around it almost possessively.

"This," he said, his voice soft yet cold and clear at the same time, "is perhaps one of the most powerful and dangerous potions you will find in this world. But I am sure none of you have heard of the Draught of the Patron's Protection."

Hermione, who was sitting behind Harry, gasped loud enough for the whole class to hear, indicating that she very well did very know what the Draught of the Patron's Protection was. Snape conveniently chose to ignore this.

"Indeed, it is not a potion most amateurs can successfully create," he said, and now he stared pointedly at Hermione. "However, those who _do_ manage to make it will find an enormous sum of power in their hands."

Harry didn't like the feel of this; it seemed to almost border on the Dark Arts, but knowing Snape's colourful history, he supposed that should not have been much of a surprise.

"The Draught of the Patron's Protection," Snape continued, "has the ability to give _eternal_ protection to the one most dearest to you. It gives protection from poisons, illnesses, infection, and even weapon-inflicted injuries. An amount such as this," and now he gestured at the vial he held, "can give enough protection for about six months. Eternal protection would require a quantity of potion that fills your entire cauldron.

"I am sure most of you simple-minded students—" he stared mainly at the Gryffindors "—are wondering _why_ you cannot administer this potion to everyone then, to give them all eternal protection. The reason why, of course, is what makes it so dangerous."

Hermione was almost bursting out of her seat to answer Snape's unanswered question, but sensibly managed to hold on to her tongue.

"Mixed with a single hair from the creator, this potion can only be given to _the_ one dearest to you. Not _any_ one. It is not merely who you _think_ is dearest – your Mothers and Fathers, or your lovers – no, it is the one who, you, without a doubt would sacrifice anything, _anything_ for."

Harry wondered why Snape was staring at him while he spoke, but almost as soon as he wondered that, Snape's eyes flickered away to land on Malfoy.

"Due to this, many have administered the potion to those who they _believed_ to be the one they most cared for, but was actually not. That is the danger of the Draught of the Patron's Protection. Giving it to the one who is _not_ dearest to you – _any_ one – can lead to the exact opposite effect: poisoning, which leads to an illness, which will eventually lead to death.

"As a result, these potions are _not_ to be taken out of this room. None of you will be making more of a quantity than that which I currently hold."

"_Wish I could have enough of that to poison _Malfoy" Ron muttered under his breath to Harry. Harry was unable to resist smirking back.

Snape's eyes narrowed in on him. "Do you find this amusing, Potter?"

Harry hastily refocused on Snape. "No, Professor," he said quietly, but he knew it was too late.

Snape's lips curled into a sneering smirk. "Perhaps we can find out first-hand the effects of administering the Draught of the Patron's Protection to the wrong person."

Harry's heart thudded against his chest, the words of the lecture flying through his mind. _Poisoning … illness … eventual death._ Was Snape even _allowed_ to do order a student to drink it?

Snape's gaze left him and travelled to his immediate left. "Ah, Mr Longbottom. Perhaps you, with your great Gryffindor courage, would be able to give us a demonstration?"

Now Harry was alarmed; it was one thing to drink poison by a mistake caused by yourself. It was entirely another to have it drunk by someone else. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Neville's rigid form, frozen in fear, and his face whiter than he had ever seen it.

Snape was already walking towards them. The Slytherins on the other side of the classroom all turned towards them eagerly to watch.

"Professor," Harry said, swallowing, "shouldn't I be the one to drinking, since I —"

"Be quiet, Potter." Snape was already at his desk; he barely gazed at Harry while he summoned a spoon and poured a few drops of the Draught into it. "Perhaps this will teach you to take the Potion lessons a bit more _seriously_. And a few drops won't kill Mr Longbottom, but it will be an excellent demonstration of the potion's effects and strength."

Harry was panicking more by the minute. "But Neville's sick!" he cried. "He had a stomach virus, he's barely recovered!"

"I told you to be quiet, Potter." Now finished with his measurements, Snape stuck out the spoon in front of Neville. "Here you are, Mr Longbottom."

Neville, who extended a hand to grasp the spoon, was shaking so badly he slopped the potion over the edges. Harry, whose fear continued to bubble up inside him, did the only thing he could think of to do to distract the entire class and Snape: he took the unstoppered vial from where it was sitting on his desk and chugged the whole thing down.

The potion was sticky yet fluid; it was sweet but it burned his throat; it tasted like Butterbeer dug out from the deepest corner of the Black Lake.

Around him, gasps and cries erupted. Neville's spoon clattered to the floor. Someone wrenched the vial out of his grasp, but by then, he had already finished drinking all the contents.

Snape's face was deathly white, whiter than Neville's had been, if that was at all possible.

"You foolish, _foolish_ boy!" he roared. "Drinking two drops would only give you a headache … but an entire vial!" He dragged a very disoriented Harry from his chair and sent him stumbling down the aisle.

"To the nurse's office! _Now_!" Snape pushed him out the door. "And tell her _exactly_ what happened."

"But Professor —" said Harry, about to protest that he felt entirely fine, but he was cut short to see the fear ablaze in Snape's eyes. Fear … for _him_?

"Do. _Not_. Come back. For the entire lesson." Without another word, he slammed the door in Harry's face.

Snape was still shaking. Taking deep, steadying breaths, he momentarily leaned his head against the door, before realising that thirty other faces were still watching him. Hastily, he turned around, trying to compose himself, all emotion wiped from his eyes.

"Turn to page four hundred and twelve and start making the potion. You have until the end of class."

Then, as calmly as possible, he turned and walked up the aisle toward his desk.

He was not worried about the boy's health; he knew for certain that Harry would survive. What he _was_ worried about was that they would all soon see how completely unaffected Harry was.

They would see how the potion strengthened him during the next six months.

No, what Severus Snape was _truly _worried about was that they would figure out his deepest darkest secret — that the person in this world who was dearest to him was Lily Potter's son.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Deathly Hallows converted me into a Lily/Snape fan! All reviews are treasured. :) 

And I really do believe Snape cares/cared for Harry, regardless of what his speech said. It's hard to try to protect someone for seventeen years, and not have _some_ sort of feelings for them.


End file.
